


The Coral Isle Alliance

by AkumaStrife



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: I just wanted Flower Prince Scott McCall okay, M/M, Magical Regency AU, regency au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6336298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly two decades after the tyrannical king was dethroned, and his expansive and subjugated empire divided into many smaller kingdoms to be ruled by elected families of noble blood, the royal family of the Coral Isles extends an invitation for diplomatic alliance. The king’s line had mercilessly ruled the continent with fear and high taxes and pointless feuds for hundreds of years—peaceful coexistence would take a lot of time and gestures of good will. And so Queen McCall graciously accepts by offering her summer palace for the meeting--and so sets into motion the alliance that, unbeknownst to everyone involved, ends up being four years in the making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Coral Isle Alliance

“Why do I gotta come?” Scott asked with a huff, struggling with his velvet coat.

Stiles snickered from atop Scott’s plush bed and rolled onto his back. A flick of his boney fingers and the coat jerked and wriggled its way off Scott’s shoulders again to float in the air. The sleeve cuffs wrapped around Scott’s hands and yanked him into a fast-paced dance around the room.

The maid trying to help the young prince dress shrieked, looking more harried by the moment. “You pesky pixie! Shoo! Be gone!”

Stiles let some of his glamour fall and grinned at her with a smile far too wide around needle sharp teeth; his eyes blinked large and round, turning iridescent black like an oil-slicked pool.

Melissa sighed and turned from the standing mirror to give Stiles a chiding look. “If you want to accompany Scott to the alliance meeting, you must behave. Am I understood?”

Stiles rolled over again, right off the bed, and wrapped his magic around himself so that when his feet touch the floor it was on four paws. He took the shape of a greyhound with lavender-gray fur; when he shook himself the air smelled suddenly of jasmine and honey cakes.

Scott pulled the limp coat back on with a sigh. “Do I really have to come?” he repeated. “Making treaties sounds boring.”

The maid fiddled with his gold buttons and smoothed his stiff collar.

“You’re my only heir,” Melissa said. She stepped closer to finger-comb his hair into place. “Someday this kingdom will be yours and you’ll have to know how to run it. It may not seem important at fourteen but alliances are integral to that. Things were not always this… quiet, among the kingdoms. This alliance would go a long way in restoring trust and friendly relations between the peoples.”

“I know, I know,” Scott drawled—he’d heard this dozens of times. Stiles yawned wide and with a little whine on the end to mirror his boredom. “Before I was born the land was ruled by one cruel king before you all took it back and divided it up again.”

Melissa looked at him for a moment, studying his expression, and found herself fond rather than irritated at his behavior. She’d rather have this, a loving son who never had to witness how bad it used to be.

“I’ve heard they’re very nice people,” she said eventually. “And they have a son your age.”

Scott perked up. “Really? Is he coming too?”

Melissa nodded. “I won’t force you to befriend him, but it’d be very helpful. To both me and for the sake of the alliance.”\

“Okay, mom.” He smiled up at her, somehow with the full warmth of the sun, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

* * *

 

Allison smooths down her dress, frowning at her reflection without really seeing it. The dress is lighter and softer than her coronation gown, and for the first time in months she feels like she can finally breathe. Just a little.

She’s too young for this. She didn’t ask for this—only barely seventeen—but the Argents are matriarchal, and so she has to.

“Your Majesty,” Chris says, offering his arm.

Allison gives him a tight smiles as she steps down the seamstress’ stool, maneuvering gingerly around her long skirts. She takes her father’s arm, allowing him to adjust the elegant crown on her head. It’s a mix of white gold and silver, the delicate frame twisting together like tree branches.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you.”

They’re stalling, but as she tries to move toward the door, Chris pulls her back in close, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head.

“She’d be so proud of you.”

Allison laughs once without humor, and then chokes back a sob. “She wouldn’t. I invited her killer to my coronation.”

Chris shushes her and presses a trembling kiss into her hair. “Enough tears. You have a kingdom waiting. _Your_ kingdom, not her’s.”

“Just…” She takes a step back, breathing deep calming breaths as he brushes a tear off her cheek. “Just please don’t kill anyone. Especially Prince Derek and his knights.”

Chris has the gall to look surprised. “I’m as harmless as a lamb.”

The denial pulls a true laugh from her. She fixes her makeup before taking his arm once more. “I’ve worked very hard to mend our ties with the Hales, and peace treaties aren’t easy to write up on such short notice. I’m begging you. Leave my party alone.”

“As the one who helped you write them, I am very aware,” he says, leading her through the castle’s winding halls. “I promise to be civil. Two death threats, three tops.”

When the doors to the great hall open, she’s still smiling at him, and it’s probably the best way this couldn’t gone.

The ballroom is filled with people from all over the continent: her own people, nobility from the other kingdoms, her friends. She’s glad for their support during this time.

She sucks in a shaky breath as Chris tightens his arm around hers.

“Breathe, smile,” he instructs under his breath.

Allison smiles out at the crowd of mingling guests, barely hearing the footman announce her. The title of Queen sounds foreign paired with her own name; she feels like a little girl playing dress up again in her mother’s closet.

The guests all bow at once and it takes her breath away. Lydia, out in the sea of fancy dress and half-familiar faces, glances up to catch her eye. She smiles sharp and confident, jerking her chin up.

Allison mirrors her movements automatically, playing her new role as best she can.

“Please, rise,” she starts, startled by how loud and clear her voice rings throughout the hall. “This should be a celebration. Dance, drink, laugh, please enjoy everything.”

The guests clap and smile and return to their conversations and companions. Allison looks down on them all and feels very alone in this one moment. So far removed and like an outsider in her own home.

“Just like we planned,” Chris reminds her, “Divide and conquer.” He moves purposefully into the crowd, greeting people warmly and shaking hands. He makes it look so easy. It should be him up on the throne.

 

* * *

 

Scott stood with his mother and Deaton, their royal advisor, in the east gardens where they receive _very important guests._ Stiles sat at his feet obediently, unnaturally still to the extent that he didn’t even seem to be breathing. He did that sometimes, and it always startled Melissa as it did now. It reminds her that her son’s playmate and self-appointed guardian is far from human.

The kitchen staff finished laying out the tea and the doorman stepped out in the grass.“You Majesty, may I present their majesties, the King and Queen of the Coral Isles.”

The Mahealani family greeted Melissa and Deaton cordially. Scott fidgeted with a small wooden box and offered a smile to the bigger boy following behind his parents.

The boy tilted his head as he flicked his gaze up at Scott’s forehead several times and looked like he was about to say something, but instead smiled tentatively in return. It was a tight, polite smile and Scott could faintly see the hint of dimples.

“And this is our son, Daniel,” the King said, catching both boys’ attention.

“You have a lovely home,” Daniel said, stepping up beside his parents and bowing to Melissa.

“So polite,” Melissa praised. She gently pushed Scott forward. “My son, Scott.”

“I have a gift for you. As a token of good will from our kingdom to yours,” Daniel said to him carefully, as if he’d practiced the speech over and over. “Please, call me Danny.” He reached into a hidden pocket of his tunic and brought out a large clam shell that shone pearly blue, and offered it with a slight bow.

“Oh, neat! I have a gift for you too,” Scott said. He shoved the box at Danny. They trade, hands a little clumsy as they brush; each careful not to drop the gifts.

Scott fumbled with the top of the shell until it sprung open. A water bubble hovered out into the air, encasing a tiny seahorse the color of a dazzling emerald.

“Whoa… that’s so cool!” Scott beamed, poking at the bubble and how it kept water in, instead of the other way around.

Danny’s formal aura cracked with a frown. He muttered, “He’s one of my favorites, so you better take good care of him.”

“You did this?” Scott asked. His awe snapped from the enchanted object to Danny.

Danny shrugged self-consciously and flushed under the fierce and sudden attention. He looked down at the smooth box in his hands for something to do, and flipped the gold latch. Inside was a miniature satin pillow and atop it one oblong, shriveled _thing._

“What is it?”

Scott’s grin nearly doubled in size. “It’s an apple blossom seed!”

Melissa looked at him abruptly, her eyebrows climbing high in surprise.

Stiles finally moved by pressing up against Scott’s leg.

Danny plucked it out of the box carefully and held it up to the light for a better look. “A what?’

“Apple blossom tree,” Scott repeated, bouncing on his toes. “You can plant it when you get home. We have a ton down by the lake. C’mon, I’ll show you!”

“Scott,” Deaton interrupted.

“Oh, right…” Scott smiled sheepishly and turned to his mother. “May I please take Da— _Prince Daniel_ down to the lake to see the apple blossoms?”

Melissa looked to their guests. “It’s perfectly safe. Perhaps you’d like to begin our negotiations for open trade?”

“Of course,” the King said. The Queen said something to Danny in a language Scott didn’t recognize. Danny nodded in response and then nodded to Scott. He tightened his fingers around the seed in his palm.

Scott grabbed his hand and ran into the hedge maze off the side of the garden, yanking Danny along as Stiles loped beside them.

“Please forgive him,” Melissa said. “He’s very excitable.”

The Queen laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “It’s quite alright.”

* * *

 

Lydia sidles up to Allison, smiling at a Duke as she takes Allison’s arm. “Very nice,” she says. “I would’ve done it a bit flashier, though.”

“Of course you would.”

Lydia shrugs, somehow making the action both haughty and forgiving. “You’re a queen now, Allison, you’re supposed to own it. You look the part at least, stunning and regal. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Allison ducks her head with a shy smile. It feels good, to smile again. Between her mother’s death and all her new responsibilities she hadn’t had time to grieve, let alone spend time with her friends. "Thank you. The dress is gorgeous, although a little over the top.”

“Nonsense! Ivory is the best thing for your skin tone, and amethysts were the least I could do.”

“Your Majesty?” a voice interrupts from behind them. “I wish to offer my congratulations.”

They turn to find Derek, fist pressed over his heart and head bowed. His three most trusted knights copy his posture behind him, though Erica and Isaac smirk up at Allison in unison the moment they catch her eye. Boyd smiles gently to compensate, exasperated as he nudges his companions.

Allison sucks in a startled breath despite herself, clutching Lydia’s arm. It’s the first time she’s seen Derek since he personally delivered her mother’s body to them four months prior. She thought… she didn’t know what she expected, except maybe it wouldn’t still hurt this badly.

Lydia hums thoughtfully, giving them an appraising once-over. “Prince Derek,” she greets, all charm and grace. She saintly presents her free hand for Derek to kiss.

“I trust you received my— _our_ last gift?” Allison asks. “Allow me to apologize again on behalf of my kingdom, for… my mother’s transgressions.”

Derek nods. “Our condolences and deepest regret for your loss.” The words are calculated and robotic, as if he’s unused to putting himself so low.

She wants to blame him, wants to be angry with him, but that’s a child’s reaction and she in the span of four months she’s no longer a child. She has responsibilities that extend beyond herself. And most of all, she knows what her mother is capable of— _was_ capable of. Her mother started the petty and messy feud all her own. She had lead the revolt against the Old King, and never slowed down.

“It’s been forgiven,” she says quickly, forcing a smile. It will take time, but at least they’re trying.

“I have a gift,” Derek says, and beckons his knights forward. “To honor your new title.”

Allison looks between them warily; the gifts exchanged between the kingdom have been constant since they ended the feud, and she’s not sure how long this is supposed to go on. It’s getting a little ridiculous.

Boyd steps forward, but his hands remain empty. “In the kennels you’ll find three new hunting hounds. Still pups, still young enough to train however you prefer.”

Erica looks terribly pleased. “Picked ‘em out ourselves. Most promising of the spring litter, each with their own budding talents. That fancy Huntress title of yours isn’t just for appearances?”

“Oh,” Allison says in surprise, brightening. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Isaac ducks his head with a flush, and the other two follow suit, taking a step back.

Derek rolls his eyes and waves a hand at them. “Go on, then, get.”

Erica giggles as she snatches at Boyd’s hands, and the three dart into the crowd to where a space has opened up for dancing. Derek huffs as he watches them disappear, and then bows to Allison once more before slinking off himself, looking uncomfortable in his stiff, formal clothes.

“Allison!”

She whirls just in time to be enveloped in a tight hug. Scott smells like fresh grass and orchids, and she melts into him gratefully.

“I’ll glad you could make it,” she says.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He steps back, smiling wider when she returns it.

“I know, but it means a lot to me.”

“I see Stiles is absent,” Lydia quips, glancing around the crowded hall. “There’s a first.”

“He’s here… somewhere,” Scott says. He twirls his fingers in a vague circular gesture. “Changed his shape.”

Lydia scoffs. “Of course. Show off. Animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

“All of the above?” Scott guesses. “Where’s Jackson? I thought we’d all be here.”

“What is it Stiles is always calling us?” Allison asks. “The Chessboard?”

“Yes, something about _pieces_ and _fate_ ,” Lydia says. “Anyone’s guess why. Irritating fey probably just likes being cryptic.” She throws her hands into the air, like she does every time Stiles brings it up. “Anyway, my dumbass beau has dragged Danny off to do something foolish, I’m sure.”

Scott’s eyes light up. “Danny’s here?”

Allison shoots him a look and giggles at how his cheeks flush. He just smiles down at his polished shoes. She prods his side. “Why wouldn’t he be? Haven’t you seen him recently?"

Scott shakes his head. “I spent some time with him when our families first made the alliance, and a few brief exchanges at big events, but not really since the first. Little over three years? Almost four maybe?”

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Scott skidded to a stop on the lake shore, Danny nearly crashing into him and sending them both into the water, that he noticed them.

“You’ve got gills!”

The thin flap of skin behind Danny’s ears fluttered at the air and turned a bright turquoise at the edges. Danny covered them with his hands, but it only drew Scott’s gaze to the delicate matching fins on the inside of Danny’s wrists and the webbing between his fingers.

Danny frowned and shot back, “And you have flowers in your hair.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows and strained his eyes upward even though it did nothing. He patted his head. “Oh!” He lifted the woven crown off his head, mindful of the tiny pink, orange, and white blossoms. “I forgot that was there. Stiles is always putting them on me, says the earth wants to be close to me, or something.”

“Stiles?” Danny asked.

Scott pointed to the greyhound at this heel.

Danny looked between them doubtfully, mouth curling down and eyes narrowed, as if worried it was an elaborate joke. But Stiles gave a short wag of his tail and Scott smiled, so Danny nodded.

They stood in silence for a long moment. The lake lapped at the shore a little higher, stretching closer and closer to Danny’s feet.

“They only open when I’m near water,” Danny finally explained. “I come form a long line of aquatic people. So… gills, magic, that kind of thing. I guess.”

Scott grinned wider and responded only by placing the flower crown on Danny’s head.

* * *

 

“Here he is, my favorite dumbass,” Lydia sings, hands out to pull Jackson down into a kiss. He grimaces, but kisses her anyway, nodding his head in greeting to Scott. “Did you lose our tadpole?”

“I’m not a tadpole,” Danny says, behind them all, with an exasperated laugh. He eases himself between two oblivious party goers to join them, somehow managing to move through the crowd unseen despite his height.

“Course not!” Jackson pats his cheek roughly. “You’re a real frog now.”

Danny glances at Scott and flashes him a tentative smile, before turning his attention to Allison.

Scott’s greeting dies in his throat and he can only a besotted smile. He almost doesn’t recognize the island prince. Before he’d still been tall, but also gangly and his body a little too big in all the wrong places; shy and unassuming. The years have been good to him. Very good, in fact. He’s filled out, with broad shoulders and large hands. He doesn’t curl in on himself anymore either, towering above them.

“You guys need to stop giving me gifts in front of everyone!” Allison hisses, but unable to keep the glee out of her admonishment. The sword in her hands is a little longer than normal, and the hilt encrusted in pearls. “You’re just showing off.”

“You’re welcome,” Danny says, bowing slightly with a cheeky grin. His dimples become more pronounced in his mirth, and Scott’s thoughts derail again.

“What’s the point in being royalty if we can’t do grossly inappropriate things?” Lydia asks. “Speaking of, Jackson, darling, you’re going to dance with me.”

“No, I’m not,” he spits.

His gift given, Danny steps back, positioning himself a little closer to Scott. He looks at Scott’s hair and his smile softens into something bittersweet and fond.

Scott tilts his head. “What?”

“You’ve still got flowers in your hair.”

“Oh.” Scott feels his face warm, just a little. “Yeah… yeah I do.” He glances between Danny and out across the ballroom. “Do you—“

Lydia pushes between them without warning, latching onto Danny’s arm. “C’mon, Danny, let’s go dance. My boyfriend is a conceited asshole and I always liked you better anyway.”

It is, patently, untrue and part of their weird three-way friendship.Scott’s always thought it nice, a little like what he has with Stiles and Allison, in its familiarity and comfort.

As it is Jackson snorts and bites back something surely venomous, but retreats to get refreshments instead.

“Oh, okay, one moment,” Danny tells her. He looks to Scott apologetically. “What were you about to—“

“It’s nothing,” Scott says. “Don’t worry about it.” He waves them towards the dance floor where a waltz is beginning. “Go on, Allison and I will catch up.”

Danny gives him a peculiar look, but lets Lydia drag him away.

Allison steps up beside him, watching their retreat and waiting until they’re well out of earshot before saying, “No wonder you turned down my marriage proposal.”

“I am sorry about that.” Scott put any effort into looking sorry. He looks two parts enamored and one part wistful; he can feel it.

She bumps shoulders with him companionably. “I didn’t really want to get married, anyway. Dad was pushing for it, and were the least offensive option.”

“Lease offense? That’s got to be the nicest compliment anyone’s ever paid me.”

“Oh hush, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He bows and offers his hand. “Would the new queen care to dance with the least offensive man here?”

She mock gasps, fanning her face. “I’d be delighted, good sir.”

* * *

 

“So… Stiles is a fey?” Danny asked. His now bare feet were stretched out into the lake, Scott crisscross on the dirt shore beside him. “If he’s tied to you, then you must have his true name.”

Scott nodded. “Mhm. Mom said when I was little Stiles came to me in many forms, until finally he whispered his name to me. It was my first words. And we’ve been bonded ever since."

Stiles lay between them, tail wagging lazily and flopped over up against Scott’s side. Melissa had asked him not to shift in front of guests, and so he will stay canine and mute.

“That’s incredible,” Danny said. “I sort of have something similar.” He held out his hand to show off the webbing, only faltering a little when Scott immediately reached out to pull his hand into his lap so he could inspect the translucent turquoise skin. “I can talk to marine animals. Well, sort of. Not really talk, but I understand what they want me to know. Somehow”

“That’s so cool,” Scott said. He twisted, shuffling a little closer even though it jostled Stiles and made him grumble. With his free hand he so, so carefully brushed the gills on Danny’s neck with gentle fingers.

Danny flushed.

* * *

 

Scott and Allison are well into the swing of the dance, when she breaks her facade and says, “You haven’t given me my birthday present yet, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I thought you didn’t want us embarrassing you in front of your guests?”

“I’m supposed to say that. And you’re supposed to ignore my polite demeanor and lavish me with gifts anyway. Everyone else got the memo.”

Scott spins her. “Everyone else is rude and slept through their etiquette lessons.”

“That was once!”

“Alright, alright,” he says on a laugh. “I got Stiles to agree to let you hunt him for three whole days. Your kingdom, so you have the advantage.

Allison’s eyes widen and she almost misses the next steps of the dance. “No way. Wait, is he going to be game, or predator?”

“Both, I think? He said something about the right to use all of his own advantages. So it’s even.”

She squeals happily and throws her arms around his neck, the dance be damned. It continues around them, and she doesn’t even notice the stares of the surrounding nobility. “I love you so much. You’ve been promoted from least offensive to my first choice.”

Scott tugs her back into the dance before someone crashes into them, but Allison tugs back. She reverses the steps and suddenly they’re dancing against the flow.

“What are you doing?” Scott whispers frantically. He smiles apologetically at a couple they almost step on.

“Changing the dance. Everyone’s switching partners. Oh my, look where we are—hello Lydia!”

“You can’t do this,” Scott hisses, avoiding Danny’s bemused look.

“I’m the Queen,” Allison says. Her posture is regal and authoritative; her grin is anything but.

* * *

 

It was only when the Mahealani’s adjourned to the south wing guest quarters that Scott and Stiles followed Melissa to hers, as they generally did in the evening. They sat in front of the fireplace, playing chess while she looked over new degrees.

She looked up at her son and placed the quill back in its stand. “Scott?” He made his move on the board before twisting around to look at her. “I thought you were going to give Prince Daniel fire dahlias?”

“Yeah, but when I went to get them, the apple blossoms where making themselves extra pretty and said they’d be a better gift to Danny because—“

“They _told_ you?” Melissa transferred her gaze to Stiles sharply. Stiles looked back unblinking. The heat of the fire behind him made his skin shimmer and shift, as if there were vines growing under his skin. He wasn’t really part of this realm, existing somewhere on the other side of a transparent veil.

Not for the first time Melissa wondered what his true face looked like. She wondered if she even wanted to know.

“Well… not exactly?” Scott scratched the back of his neck. “It was more of a feeling?”

“It’s the land, the earth. Finally,” Stiles said. His solemn expression broke into a dizzying smile. “The Old Words are not always as they first seem.”

Scott’s face screwed up in confusion, but Melissa only pursed her lips thoughtfully. She knew fey couldn’t lie, and she’d come to recognize the difference in Stiles’ speech when he was trying to.

She hadn’t thought of the Prophecy in years. When the other noble bloods dethroned their tyrannical king and divided the continent between them, they had assumed that was it. The subjugated and barren wasteland allotted to her had quickly thrived under her reign. She could feel it sometimes—faintly. Magic ran deep in the continent and twisted itself to reflect the monarch. She knew the other kingdoms had undergone similar transformations.

They assumed the prophecy was about them and had come to fruition.

But now… now that she thought back, it wasn’t until the year Scott was born that everything began to blossom and flourish at an alarming rate. She thought of the trees communicating with Scott, the way he never was scratched on brambles or thorns, his relationship with Stiles, tiny flowers that grew in Scott’s footprints that she rarely gave thought.

Melissa looked at Stiles, and he looked back.

* * *

 

They dance, and drink, and laugh, and collectively help ease Allison’s nerves and lingering sorrow.

They find Stiles outside taking the form of the front gate statues and jumping at unsuspecting guests.

They slip the end of the party and shed their stuffy clothing for skinny dipping in the reflecting pools inside the wood at the edge of the Argent Castle; moonlight making the crystals and stones imbedded in the walls of the pool glow. Or maybe that’s Lydia’s presence. She hasn’t cemented how her connection to her kingdom manifests and what it did to her to be born in a castle jutting out of the mountains. To be born in a kingdom that sits over leagues of precious mines.

They get to be children again, just for this short while, in the dark wood under the moon, as true to themselves as they’ve ever been allowed. Not products of their parents, of their responsibility. Not products of a prophecy they didn’t have a choice in.

They return to the castle well after midnight, only whenJackson starts to get cold and they’re loud enough that guards will hear them soon otherwise.

They return to the castle and their rooms, giggling together like children as they slip down carpeted hallways, ducking servants and guards alike while they’re dripping wet.

Scott returns to his room, Stiles ever at his heel, but just continues to pace the length of it. Thinking. Wondering. _Wanting_.

“He looks good,” Stiles says. He flops back onto the large bed, looking as he generally does when he decides to look human, but his fingers are always too long and his limbs too wild, face too sharp and eyes deep and hungry.

Scott just nods; distracted. He can’t stop thinking of dimples and that smile. Large, capable hands—on his waist and in his own—twirling him around the ballroom like they’re fourteen again and no time has passed. Broad shoulders, beneath airy fabrics the color of the sea and stitched with bits of iridescent shell and bright coral and pearls; broad shoulders bare and bathed in moonlight and water that slides around him like it was made to, like it wants to.

He thinks of the seahorse still in the shell beside his bed.

Thinks of the apple blossoms and what they had said, those years ago.

Remembers the last time he’d seen Danny at Jackson’s birthday celebration two years past and how they’d only really had time to say hello. For Scott to smile too bright and Danny, bashful, to tell him how he’d planted the tree below his window and how tall it had grown.

Scott grabs a thick cloak from the chair beside the fire and pins it with the orchid broach Lydia had given him earlier to match the ones in his hair.

Stiles just snorts and grins from the bed. “Was wondering when you’d—”

“Don’t wait up,” Scott shoots back, sparing him a smile as he throws open the window and hops up onto the ledge. Allison always gives him this room, knows how much he likes the towering May Day tree right outside it. Likes the fragrant blossoms and how it always blooms when he’s around, whether it’s spring or not.

It’s easy, familiar, to climb out into the tangle of branches. Never doubting they’ll hold him, never needing much light to climb down when there’s always footing right where he needs it.

He drops down near silently into the fresh grass and looks around for his bearings. Allison put Danny in the southern most room (as they all do) and so he heads around the outer wall, skirting the courtyard and sticking to the shadows. No guards would stop him, would even question his intentions, but instinct dictates he does this without anyone knowing. This is between him and Danny.

And, well… the guards never respond favorably to a shadowy figure scaling the wall.

Which he is absolutely set on—it feels right.

He paces a little once he finds the right window. Looks up and is bolstered by the fact that there’s light still flickering inside. God he hopes this is the right window.

The tree in in front of it isn’t quite tall enough, not close enough, but that won’t be a problem.

Bracing his boot on a knot low on the trunk, Scott pushes himself up into the tree and makes quick work pulling himself up first in the junction of the branches and then farther. The tree groans and creaks, shifting in increments under him. It shifts and grows, just a little at a time, carrying him higher and closer, bridging the distance to the window as he shuffles out to the end of a sturdy branch. He sits with both feet dangling off the limb and leans up to the window, rapping his knuckles against it.

He’s nervous all of the sudden. Unsure. What if… what if he’s been reading all this wrong? What if the crush of a young boy was just that? And all his own? What if Danny—

The window opens cautiously and then there’s Danny, his expression shifting from curious to surprised to something that looks pleased.

Scott takes a deep breath; takes that faintly positive expression and focuses on it as he swallows. Tries to find his voice.

Danny leans his arms on the window ledge, tilting his head in amusement. “Good evening.” He acts as if this is a normal thing that happens. Acts as if they hadn’t just parted ways less than an hour ago.

Scott inclines his head, tries and fails to repress a besotted smile.He thinks for a long moment, tries to collect his thoughts, tries to _remember._

He licks his lips.

Inhales.

“I have a gift for you,” Scott says, quiet and careful, as he’s practiced in his head over and over. “As a token of good will from our kingdom to yours.”

He waits just long enough for recognition to spark in Danny’s eyes, and then reaches out with both hands for Danny’s face. Brackets his jaw gently and draws him forward into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a 12 chapter series, but after two years of working on it on and off, this is probably the best version of what it could be.


End file.
